


Blood sacrifice

by Penelopyxl



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship/Love, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penelopyxl/pseuds/Penelopyxl
Summary: Blood sugar sex magic, well perhaps not sugar so much.





	Blood sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> After reading Jane St Clair's wonderful Restaurant Dogs I could never get the image of naked wizard Wesley out of my mind. This is what came of that.

Blood sacrifice

The vision comes early in the morning, or what Gunn still thinks of as the fucking middle of the night. Cordelia is badly shaken. He remembers saying to Wesley a few days earlier that those episodes seemed to affect her worse and worse each time. Seeing her all drained and not even complaining Gunn knows he was right. If that girl doesn't have the energy to bitch and moan something has to be up. But as usual there's no time to take care of her. A fight involving Kareak demons is going down at a club on the eastside and they've got to move.

The bloodbath is well underway when they get there, ripped bodies everywhere and insanely terrified customers being hunted down like animals. Angel leaps right into the fray and Gunn follows blindly. He loses sight of the other two at some point, fighting for all he is worth until something hits him like a stun gun. His body screams in pain and simply collapses. He finds himself on the floor, fully conscious but unable to control his muscles and writhing in pain.

Gunn is looking up at the face of one of the more disgusting Kareak demon who’s about to kill him. A bad way to go and he can't even scream anymore. Wonders if he should close his eyes but doesn't.  
Suddenly the demon is collapsing. He can see bodies falling all around him. One even lands on his legs. And if it hadn't been for his exhausted vocal chords he would be screaming now.

Vague sounds penetrate the fog that surrounds his brain. He can hear Wes, see him too, now that the Kareak have all kindly taken there places on the floor. Wes has stripped down to the bare flesh and is apparently screaming at the top of his voice while his arms are stretched wide. Somehow Gun never realizes that it's odd for Wesley to be naked in the middle of a fight, nor does he question what Wesley thinks he's doing. He just stares at Wesley’s chest wondering how those scars got there, deep nasty scars, running all over his pale skin. "Hope he killed the bastards that hurt him," Gunn thinks.

Power radiates of the Englishman's slender body and a blinding flash of light ends the unbelievable din that's been pounding Gunn’s ears for the last eternity. His head clears a little. He sees Wesley slump for a moment before he straightens up and walks over to Gunn. He leans over him, unselfconsciously naked and beautiful, beautiful at least to Gunn, who still can't speak or move. Angel is there too, all leather and darkness next to Wesley's pale white skin and Gunn feels jealous. He can imagine Angel fucking Wesley, a brutal possession high on adrenaline and blood, and this is something he has never thought of before, has never wanted to picture, but now it makes him so frustrated he almost forgets about the pain in all his limbs.

Wesley picks him up and this too is odd and Gunn would protest, except that his mind is spinning. He has no time to notice the merely odd with all the insanity around at the moment. So he lets Wesley carry him across the bloodied dancefloor out of the club's back entrance all the way to the car without any protest. Wesley is still naked and Gunn wonders if Wesley even knows this. He would ask but he doesnt quite know if he can speak and Wes doesn't look like a man open to wardrobe suggestions right at that moment.  

Any time now he'll be able to pull his own weight again but for the moment Gunn is just fine with studying Wesley's face. Strange face, too many possible expressions for one face really, every thought visible, brutally honest, or maybe not at all, never real, always hiding more thoughts.

The engine starts and Angel pulls out of the parking lot way too fast. Wesley, normal not-naked Wesley, would tell Angel to slow down, say something like "getting us all killed won't help anybody". Gunn is waiting for the words. Sometimes he thinks his life is a movie he's seen too many times, a second rate, violent movie with shitty special effects, nowhere near enough sex and fucking predictable dialogue.

"Faster Angel."  
Ok different kind of fucking bad movie perhaps and no no no his mind should really not go there again, not again in… how much time has passed…? He is unable to focus his thoughts and his eyes clamp onto Wesley’s face meeting an intent stare. Why is the British fucker staring at him and mumbling like that?

God, his body still hurts like hell and he can't move for shit. He knows they've arrived at the hotel. He's not blind at least. All he wants is to get out of the car, to move, to lift his head from Wesley's chest, but nothing happens. Wesley is still talking, talking to him Gunn thinks, though he's not sure it's English. Angel lifts him from Wesley's arms and the pain, vaguely bearable up to that point, immediately makes him croak out a scream.

He's shaking uncontrollably again until Wesley’s arms come up to surround him and the voice returns close to his ear. Gunn breathes, deep, desperate.

"Damn it Angel."  
"I didn't…"  
"I told you… never mind… inside, now!"

Wesley can't lift him up now. He is barely able to stand himself. Angel is helping Wes lug Gunn inside. It must look really good. A large man in a leather coat that does not at all scream 'creature of the night' and a naked man hauling an incapacitated black man into a decrepit hotel. They must certainly be providing terrific entertainment.

Inside the hotel it's mostly dark, which is nice. Gunn doesn't really mind light usually but right now it feels better to just have this half light. He can still see Wes, and what else would he need. Well it would be good if that mind numbing pain could stop and perhaps being able to move wouldn't be a luxury either…, but right now he knows his priorities.

He ends up on a bed in Wesley's arms. Gunn perks up a little. This is a scenario he recognizes. He's been here before. Well his body hasn't really but his mind has… which probably means this is a dream… oh man, when did he get such a warped subconscious.  
"Stay with me Gunn." Wesley hauls him upright against his chest and runs long fingers over his face. "Angel help me undress him, I need to get to him quickly."

Oh man, oh man, not good, these are his dreams? What is up with that?  
But he's powerless. Angel takes Gunn's clothes off and pretty soon he and Wes are both naked on the bed.

"You will have to leave us Angel."  
"What are you going to do?"  
Gunn is vaguely aware that he should have wondered about that as well but he doesn't care, he really doesn't.  
"A spell Angel, and it's difficult and dangerous so it takes a lot of concentration…" long strong hands rubbing circles on Gunn's back… "and it can't be performed with a vampire in the room."  
"You're making that up."  
"Well yeah… but I still need you to leave."  
"Right… how dangerous?"  
"Just go."  
"Right."

Sounds and then silence and Wesley behind him, around him.

For a while nothing seems to happen until it dawns on Gunn that Wesley is speaking, louder and louder, chanting, not speaking. Important to get the words right around this guy. Not that there isn’t more to Wesley than words and the way his beautiful mouth forms them so precisely. There’s blood now and Gunn knows that while magic is words it’s also blood. Wesley has both. Knife in Wesley’s hands on Wesley’s skin. Wesley’s blood on Wesley’s hands on Gunn’s skin.

Drawing, marking, naming.

With this blood I thee…

…what the hell is going on here anyway…  
…and why is the room bending?

Pain can be good, is good now, intense and focused and warm. Pain without fear. Not like the ripping torture his body endured earlier, just shallow cuts to his skin, equal and measurable. Warm hands to cover them and give the flowing blood purpose and direction.

Oh they’re working something now, for damn straight. The old mojo is moving, oldest… blood and sex and Gunn feels so so good, his hips are moving, seeking that slick body, seeking and finding friction, strong and deliberate movement in all the right places. A moan rips from his ragged throat. He feels Wesley all around him, hands and skin and mouth.

They are not alone. He can sense it even through the haze of lust and pleasure, hear the murmuring of voices. But Wesley’s fingers breach his body and the red glow behind his closed eyes turns to bright white. Gasping and thrusting he allows it, allows it all. Untouched places inside him where his own hands have never strayed, soft places well protected, and he can’t think for the need, he can’t think.

One harsh final flash of pain. For the briefest of moments he lifts his head and arches his back high, eyes wide open. Dark shapes surround them beneath the bending arches of the walls, looming all around the bed, hardly faces just mouths and eyes glowing dim but hungrily. Then Wesley’s cock thrusts deep and his eyes fall shut again. His head bends in darkness, the hunger stronger than fear.

***

Sun slants into the room through the tall straight windows when he finds consciousness again, curled around himself beneath thick blankets. There is no confusion. His eyes immediately search for Wesley. Just a shape against the bright light, sitting naked on the windowsill, huddled up against the cold glass.

Gunn tries to speak. He’s reluctant to move, having found a new appreciation for the absence of pain. But even before he can make his abused vocal chords respond Wesley uncurls and turns towards him. Grave eyes meet his.

“How are you feeling,” Wesley sounds calm and somehow resigned to whatever price will have to be paid for this night’s work. He hasn’t dressed so nothing that was done here is hidden from either of them. Gunn stretches carefully, feeling his skin pull and ache, feeling his body remember. All his muscles hurt with exhaustion. He slowly pushes the heavy blanket aside and looks at the coating of dried blood which is as much Wesley’s as it is his. The cuts, nearly invisible on his body show bright red all over the other man’s white skin. Finally he struggles to lean up on his elbows and finds Wesley’s eyes again. The grin comes without effort as he whispers hoarsely. “Good as new.”

Wesley starts shaking all over and moves closer. Gunn can almost feel it inside himself. The bed dips slightly as Wesley sits down. His eyes haven’t changed. “Good,” he breathes and the tension finally breaks, “I wasn’t sure if it would work Charles.”  
Gunn starts to laugh like a mad man, and it hurts like fuck but he can’t stop. Wesley is still shaking but his mouth is shaking too, until he joins in, laughing while tears roll down his cheeks.

His laughter looks too much like pain to Gunn. In this new dawn, or noon, or whatever, his own recovering strength is needed. He pulls Wes down against him, smearing Wes’ newly cleaned skin, and holds him tight. The movement opens a few of their shallow wounds, their blood is running together again.  
The tremors slowly subside.

“What the fuck was that anyway, what kind of bad ass spell did you pull.”  
“Your body had been charged with the Kareak’s energy, it was tearing you apart, burning you up. It had to be released. It was destroying your nervous system, killing you.”  
Wes falls silent but Gunn knows more will follow. The ex-watcher has never left a question unanswered.  
“I knew, I hoped… there is a demon-spirit that feeds on the energy of…” deep breath, tension suddenly in the slim body that Gunn smoothes away with languid strokes.  
“If properly called they feed on the energy of sex, suck up the life-force, I hoped… if I could control it… they would take just enough. I didn’t know… there was nothing else I knew… I couldn’t… I had to try Charles.”

Gunn has to rub his face to digest the information and Wesley, reading God knows what into that, immediately releases him and moves to get up but Gunn pushes him down firmly. Leaning over him so their mouths almost touch he croaks as adamant as his voice allows, “You mean that could have killed us don’t you, what you did, both of us.” Wesley looks at him with desperate eyes. “I had to try.”  
“God!” Gunn shakes his head in utter frustration. “You stupid bastard, you saved my life, stop looking at me like I’m going to hate you for it or something!”  
Suddenly he moves to kiss Wes, deep and needy, sucking on the dry lips, wetting them, before he speaks again.  
“Risking yourself like that, you goddamn fool, what if I had survived and you hadn’t.” Another kiss that dissolves in Gunn’s shaky whispers of gratitude and moans of desire. The response is uncertain at first but after a while he feels the grip on his back become stronger and when he drives his thigh between the other man’s legs he earns a gasp. Gunn tears his mouth away from the delicate skin he has just begun to explore.  
“Thank you for saving my life,” he says earnestly, staring deep into Wesley’s eyes. The shadows of despair and doubt have been lifted from them at last, though even now they hold enough darkness to scare Gunn a little if he would let it.  
Still, he gets a smile, a genuine smile and soft words. “You’re welcome Charles.”

Wesley cradles Gunn’s head and holds it in place for a kiss that leaves Gunn trembling. God, how did he go so long without this, these slender bones beneath his hands, the hard cock against his belly, that mouth…  
“Wes,” he whispers, “I can still feel you inside me.”

A hiss of indrawn breath. Wesley goes rigid beneath him and for a moment Gunn thinks Wes will come right there. He wants it to happen more than anything but Wesley regains the iron grip on himself and manhandles Gunn onto his back. Their spilled blood and sweat is slicking them up, they slide against each other maddeningly.

“I will fuck you again Charles.” A rough whisper in his ear, “I will fuck you when you are strong and well again, next time I make you come I want you all there for it, feeling all of it.”  
“Jesus English,” Gunn moans. Though exhaustions pulls at him every time he closes his eyes he feels he can’t wait, it has to be now, now in this bed soiled with their blood. But when Wesley’s voice returns to his ear telling him to sleep, that he should rest, he allows himself to drift away.

 

end  
   



End file.
